Stalker (29 page)

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay!” Marge was telling her.

Shaking uncontrollably, Rina couldn’t speak. She could barely support her own weight.

“You’re fine,” Marge assured her as she rocked her back and forth. “You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine!”

A sudden energy bolt of maternal instinct shot through Rina’s veins. She pushed Marge away and breathed out, “
Hannah
!” Rushing over to the back door, she threw it open. The little girl was jumping on the bench seat. She saw her mother’s face, saw her sickly pale complexion and the tears running down her cheeks. The little girl retreated inwardly. “Eema, sorry I jumped on the seat. I’ll put on my seat belt now. Don’t be mad. Please don’t be mad!”

She burst into tears.

Completely oblivious as to what had just happened.

People began rushing over. Marge displayed her badge, telling everyone to step back. Such authority and calm in her voice. Just a minute ago, Rina had been conversing with just another insecure mother. The two versions of Marge didn’t seem to match, but wasn’t that the way it was with people? Using Marge’s professional confidence as a springboard, Rina managed to find her own voice. “Hannah, come out of the car this instant!”

“I’m soorrrrry, Eema!”

“Get out!” Rina yelled, pulling her daughter forward by the arm. The little girl slid across the seat on her belly and was weeping hysterically by the time she was liberated from the car. Rina longed to hug and kiss her, because, as a mother, that was what
she
needed to do. What Hannah required was swift removal from the scene before any of its grisly nature sank in. She turned her daughter from the gruesome sight and barked orders to Vega. “Take Hannah
across the street, back to the park, and play with her until you hear from me!”

“I want to stay with you!” Hannah wailed.

“Go!” Rina commanded Vega.

The young teen, having been raised in a cult, was good at following orders. She picked up the squalling child and ran with her across the street. When they were out of sight, Rina buried her head into the welcoming folds of her palms, weeping so hard her shoulders were moving. People were talking to her, but all she heard was white noise. After a few moments, she admonished herself for lack of control, told herself to get a grip on it. She was alive and safe: Hannah was alive and safe. What more did she want? She should be thanking Marge, thanking Vega for spotting her, thanking Hashem for making it come out all right!

Silently, she said the prayer of
Gomel
, thanking God for delivering her from harm’s way. After she was done, she felt a bit calmer. It felt good to be doing something. She peeked through her hands and saw Marge gesticulating as she held her cell phone.

You have a cell phone
! Rina told herself.
Page Peter
!

Marge was somehow managing to maintain order while speaking at a machine gun pace into her phone. Rina wiped her eyes and picked up her tote, spilling out most of its contents, including her cell phone. But it had been built well, humming beautifully after she pressed the power button. With trembling hands, she punched in the correct numbers and managed to page her husband.

Waiting for the return call…

Marge was still directing piles of people traffic. “Back away! Back off!” She glanced at Rina, yelling out, “Where are the kids?”

“I sent Hannah with Vega back into the park. I don’t want them to be a part of this.”

They’re already a part of it
, Marge said to herself.
At least Vega was
. Thinking about Rina’s words: Crises happen to everyone sooner or later.

In retrospect, dog shit seemed pretty damn benign.

“Are you okay?” she asked Rina.

“Yes, I’m okay.” Rina managed a scared smile. “I know that because you told me I’m okay!”

Marge reached out her arms to Rina. Putting aside her duties as cop, because she was, first and foremost, a person. They embraced, hugging each other with the knowledge and appreciation that each body was whole.

“Thank you,” Rina whispered.

“Thank Vega. She was the one who saw you.”

“Well, thank you for not shooting me.”

“Thank you for dropping down and giving me a clear shot.” Marge was breathing heavily. “Look, do Vega a favor and take her to synagogue again.”

“Absolutely.” She held back tears. “I could use a little God myself.”

Marge continued to hold her tightly, as much for her own sake as for Rina’s. Then she realized things were getting out of control. Reluctantly, she stepped back from Rina, and started shooing the lookie-loos away from the crime scene.

A crime scene that she created! Well, she didn’t create the crime scene. More like she redirected it. More like, Rina directed it. Her improvisational pratfall gave Marge a clear view of the perp…a clear angle
.

Marge looked over to Rina and gave her the thumbs-up sign. “You did good, kid! You did real good!”

Despite her best efforts, Rina started to cry, an unbridled wellspring of emotions pouring forth—joy, anger, fear, relief, an appreciation for every breath she took.

Thank you,
Hashem
, she said to herself. Thank you for saving me.

And maybe, just maybe, it was her
emmunah
—her faith—that had allowed her to think clearly, that gave her some kind of plan.

In the background, she heard the undulating wails of approaching sirens. It almost drowned out the ringing of her cellular.

Peter calling back from her page. Answer the phone
.

But she hesitated, unwilling to let go of this overwhelm
ing wind of gratitude. How lucky she had been. Thank you, God—the creator and director of life—for saving her. And thank you, dear Margie, for playing one heck of a starring role.

She pressed the
On
button. Peter’s deep, sweet voice came through the receiver. For a moment, Rina couldn’t speak.

And then she did.

Someone had brought
her water; another had offered a Tylenol. Since Peter was prone to headaches, Rina always carried Advil in her purse. She declined the Tylenol, but used the water to swallow the Advil. Not that the analgesic would help much. She couldn’t stop shaking. A squadron of police black-and-whites had encircled the area like wagons around a camp, the beacon lights atop their cruisers flashing intermittently. Officers had cordoned off a wide band of curbside with yellow crime scene tape. Rina was in the thick of it, leaning against the backside of her Volvo, just yards away from the dead body. A pair of paramedics waited for the coroner’s wagon, while a duo of uniforms held vigil over the corpse. A white-and-red ambulance stood several yards away reminding her of the tenuous nature of life.

Oddly, she felt protected. Few dared to approach her for fear of messing up evidence. Also, she had a clear view of Hannah on the swings. Her little daughter had a serious expression on her face as she pumped her legs. It said, Eema had given her the assignment of playing and she was going to play. Vega stood nearby, her eyes fixed on the child. Not once had she approached Marge for help; it would never have occurred to Vega to ask.

Rina stared at her bloodstained dress. She should have asked Peter to bring her a change. First off, forensics might want her clothes, though she wouldn’t know what they’d do with them. More important, it made her sick to
be wearing someone’s life forces. But she couldn’t dwell on that now. She needed to ready herself for the eventual onslaught of questions.

Uniformed officials flitted like mosquitoes. Some seemed to be gathering witnesses, others appeared to be taking statements. And there were several groups still waiting for orders. The randomness suggested that no one had taken charge. That would change when someone from Homicide came onto the scene.

The irony was that Marge was from Homicide, but obviously she couldn’t lead the investigation because of her involvement. Rina felt for her. An officer-involved shooting meant a probe by the Officer Involved Shooting team. Not that this should be a problem, as her actions were justifiable. And she had lots of witnesses to back her up. Still, taking someone’s life, even in a rightful situation, was an onerous burden.

Rina continued to shiver even though some kind soul had given her a denim jacket. She hugged herself as she rocked on her feet. She looked around, making eye contact with a uniformed officer. He hesitated, then sidestepped the yellow tape, and swaggered over to her, pad in hand. He had a dense build to match his dense mop of black hair. Brown eyes stared at her with ferocious intensity.

He started his spiel. “If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

In a toe tap, Marge was at her side. She flashed her badge. “She does mind. She’s waiting for her husband, Lieutenant Decker. Please give her the courtesy of a little privacy.”

Red-faced, the uniform backed away, muttering some apologies.

Marge put her hands on her hips. “How are you holding up?”

Rina rubbed her arms. “I could ask you the same question.”

“I’m all right.” Marge chewed gum and surveyed the area, trying to appear casual. “This kind of thing is familiar territory.”

“Familiar territory with a twist,” Rina said.

“A big twist…thank God, that’s Webster’s Audi. You stay here.” Marge jogged over to the car. Tom got out and smoothed down his jacket. He had returned to his usual self—from frazzled expectant parent to super dude in super duds, sporting a white shirt, khaki pants, and a black linen blazer—slightly wrinkled to give it that perfect look. “Your timing could have been a mite better,” he drawled out. “My wife just gave birth to a perfect little girl about six hours ago.”

“Congrats! Still, there’s nothing more you can do for her. I’d say my timing was exquisite.”

Webster put his arm around Marge. “Are you okay?”

“Been better.” She bit her lip and clasped her hands to keep them from shaking. “Not looking forward to all the bureaucracy. Do you know who’s coming from the OIS team?”

“So far, we got Hodges and Arness. Being as it’s Sunday, it takes a while to find everyone.”

Marge nodded. “Hodges and Arness are good guys.”

“Yeah, it’s going to be fine, Margie. You want to tell me what all happened?”

Marge gave him a quick rundown. Then she said, “I’ve been trying to give the Blues some direction, but I’m hogtied because of…of what happened. No one knows what’s flying.”

“Bert’s due out here any moment. We’ll all handle the investigation of the body, let the shooting team handle you. Where’s the corpse?”

“It’s sprawled against Rina’s Volvo.” Marge began walking him over to the spot. “I did everything by the book, Tom. But ask me anyway.”

“Did you warn the perp?”

“Yes.”

“People heard you?”

“I hope so.”

“Was there imminent danger?”

“Yes. He had a weapon, and he pointed it at me.”

“Did he fire?”

“I think so, but I couldn’t swear to it because it happened so fast. It would firm up my case if he fired.”

“It would help. You didn’t touch anything, right?”

“Nothing. The gun’s right where he dropped it. Looks to be a .38 Colt revolver.” She coughed. “I posted a couple of uniforms to guard it and the body.”

“How many rounds did you fire?”

“Three.”

“You checked your gun then?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I checked.”

“Well, you didn’t empty the gun,” Webster said. “Shows you were in control. That’s good. Did you check the perp for vital signs?”

“Checked the jugular
and
the brachial artery. I couldn’t detect any pulse…not unless you count his aorta gushing like a fountain. It was a straight-on chest shot. I mean…look at me!”

Webster did. Her clothing was a mass of red inkblots.

“I kept trying to plug him up while I talked to 911.” She was talking as much to herself as to Tom. “I don’t remember the conversation, but it’s recorded on tape.”

“Did you move the body?”

“From where he landed, I moved it enough to check the wounds and check for vitals. That’s when I got blasted. I kept my face out of the way, and my hands don’t have any open cuts. Hopefully, I’m okay…just pray that the bastard didn’t have AIDS.” Her heavy sigh held back the tears. “God, it was awful! I kept stuffing the hole in his chest with his shirt…to try to stop the bleeding. I knew it was a waste of time. He was a goner on impact.”

“But you can say you tried.”

“Yeah, that’s certainly true. The ambulance must have come about a minute later…they saw me working on him.”

“Piece of cake. You’re gonna be just fine. Just sit back and compose yourself.”

“That’s a tall order.” She shook her head. “Every time I
close my eyes, I see this red river charge toward me. Fresh blood is really warm…hot. I’m still sticky from him! It’s horrible!”

“Can I do anything for you?”

“Just find out about the stiff. Maybe his identity will break the jackings. The way he did it was identical to the Farin Henley case…right down to the Volvo station wagon.”

“That would be a hoot. You breaking your own case. Course, it would have helped a mite if you hadn’t
killed
the guy.”

“I’m going to ignore that.” Then Marge burst into laughter—at odds with her wet eyes.

Decker vaulted over the crime tape. Before Rina could protest, he grabbed her shoulders and squeezed her tightly. She was determined not to cry, but she did leak a few tears.

“Do you need a doctor?” Decker asked.

“A shrink would help.”

“That can be arranged.” Decker held her at arm’s length, then drew her back into his chest. “Where’s Hannah?”

“Across…” Rina cleared her throat. “She’s with Vega in the park. See her? She’s sliding down that twisty thing?”

Decker looked. Little orange curls bounced as Hannah’s body whooshed down the turns of the metal apparatus. How close she came to being a statistic…

“Poor thing must be starved,” Rina said.

“Lieutenant—”

“Not now!” Decker barked.

The officer retreated. Decker took a deep breath and let it out. “I called your parents—”

“Peter, why on earth did you—”

“Because it was better to hear it from me than from the TV news.” Decker mopped up a sweaty brow with a handkerchief. “We’re both going to be occupied for a while. I figured they could watch Hannah—”

“I don’t want her involved! She didn’t see anything, she doesn’t even know what went on.”

“I know. That’s why I need your folks. We’ll get her out of here as fast as we can. Ordinarily, I’d ask Cindy, but she’s in no shape to do anything right now.”

“Poor Peter,” Rina said. “You must be a nervous wreck!”

“Poor
me
? Poor
you
! It’s amazing you’re still standing on two feet.” Decker ran his hand over his face. “This sure puts things in perspective. Makes you just want to…kiss the day!”

“I’ve been thanking God nonstop.” Rina’s lower lip began to tremble. “Peter, what do I tell Hannah? She thinks I’m mad at her for jumping on the backseat. I know I should go over there and say something, but I’m so nervous, I don’t know what to do!”

Decker lessened his grip on his wife. “Give me a few minutes to get things squared away and I’ll take care of her. Has anyone taken your statement?”

“Some officer tried to ask me questions, but Marge shooed him away.”

Decker nodded, pulling away from his wife to analyze the scene. There were around a dozen uniformed officers doing traffic and crowd control. The coroner’s wagon had arrived, the attendants waiting for the police photographer to finish up so they could take the body away. But before they did, the OIS team would examine the body for entrance and exit wounds, giving Marge the physical evidence she needed to exonerate her actions. Also, Martinez was there, waiting to go through the pockets of the victim for ID.

Marge was with Oliver, speaking with her hands as well as her mouth. Decker called out his name. Scott turned around, gave Marge’s shoulder a final pat, then jogged up to the tape, stepping over the barrier with careful, deliberate movements. His limbs felt numb from a poor night’s sleep.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Decker,” Oliver said. “Do you need a doctor or anything?”

“No, I’m okay.”

Decker said, “Take a statement from her. When you’re done, I’ll drive her home—”

“I can drive, Peter.”

“First off, the Volvo stays here for a while. Secondly, I wouldn’t dream of letting you drive after what happened.”

“So after I’m done, I can take Hannah and Vega with me and go home?”

Decker nodded.

“So why did you call my parents?”

“Just in case you need to rest. Wouldn’t hurt for you to have a little help.”

“Then you’ll tell Marge that I have Vega?”

“Yes. Vega might have to make a statement herself. I’ll see what I can do about that.” He wagged a finger at Oliver. “You take good care of her.”

“Of course.”

Decker evaluated his detective. Oliver looked worn to the bone. “Have someone with you to verify her statement. Report back to me, then go home and get some real sleep. Sleep…as in your
own
bed.”

Oliver ignored the sarcasm and pulled out a notepad. “I’ll do that. Someone should look after Detective Dunn until the shooting team gets here. She’s a bit nervous.”

Decker regarded Marge, who was pacing in tiny circles. “I’ll go over there.” He kissed Rina’s cheek, then brushed his lips against hers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

But Decker was reluctant to leave. He forced out a weak smile, then backed away. He realized he looked ludicrous, so he turned and walked over to his former partner. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I think I owe you some thanks.”

“Hell, I’m just so grateful it worked out. Hopefully, the shooting team will see it that way.” Marge bit her thumbnail. “When’s Hodges getting here?”

“He’s on his way.”

“Is he going to interview me?”

“I don’t know how they’ve worked out the division of labor. They’ll take you back to the stationhouse for the statement.” Decker put his arm around her. “You’re not going to have any problems with this, Margie. No one’s
going to try to trip you up. Just take it slow and you’ll be fine.”

She nodded.

Decker said, “You want to show me where you were standing?”

She took him to the exact spot. There were still bits of dog excrement clinging to the blades of grass. “I was kneeling here, cleaning my shoes…” Marge crouched down to reenact the scene. “Vega tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up…saw Rina.”

Decker knelt beside her. From this position, he had a good view of the driver’s side of the Volvo. “Then what?”

“I stood up…got my gun out. I started running over…” She squinted. “I remember a few people were in the line of fire, I told them to get back, get back—”

“Are they still here?”

“Yeah, Webster’s talking to one of them right now. That older fat guy with the gray ponytail in the blue workout suit.”

Decker gave the man a once-over. “Go on.”

Walking several yards, she suddenly stopped behind the thick trunk of a eucalyptus tree spewing the scent of menthol. “I took cover right…here. See? There’s my footprint and my knee print.”

“You were kneeling.”

“Absolutely. Better control. From the position, I had a clean view. Rina had dropped down to the ground—”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her. But it was a brilliant move. It gave me a clear shot at the perp. I identified myself. The perp turned toward me, his weapon pointed in my direction. I opened fire.”

“Three rounds.”

“Yeah. Tom told you?”

“Tom told me. Did you call for backup before you opened fire?”

“Afterward. I couldn’t handle the phone and my gun at the same time. And based on the present situation coupled
with the past history of the ongoing jackings, I assessed that immediate action was necessary. There wasn’t enough time to wait for help.”

Decker looked around, across the expanse of park area. “If he shot at you, the bullets could be anywhere.”